The Best Is Yet To Come
by blue252
Summary: "He wants to make it forever. He's going to make it forever, if she allows him." Oneshot.


**AN: **So this was a song prompt on tumblr that wound up being a lot longer than I intended. It kind of works as a sequel to Counting An Endless Repetition but I'm not sure that it completely lives up to that! The song that inspired this was "Someone Like You" by Shawn Colvin.

* * *

**The Best Is Yet To Come**

The first rays of sunrise pour through the window, lighting the room with a warm glow that stretches across their bed. Outside, the waves rise and fall steadily against the sand, carried by a light breeze that's ever-present here. It floats its way through the window he's left open overnight, a soft caress over their skin. She loves sleeping to the sound of the ocean, it's calming rhythm lulls her, soothes away the last traces of the city chaos from her mind. It's one of the many details he's cataloged about her, just like the way she always closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and inhales the salt air as soon as they arrive here. The smile that follows, the one that illuminates her entire face, nearly stops his heart every time. He'd do anything to see that smile and he's seen it more recently than he can ever remember.

He's awake early. It's unusual for him. He's always been the one to burrow back under the covers, beg for five more minutes when she lays her arm across his back and leans in close to whisper it's time to get up. But today she's the one who sleeps soundly, legs tangled beneath the sheets, one arm tucked underneath her pillow and the other draped lightly across his hip.

There's an anticipation that's been building for weeks, pulsing energy through his veins, causing his brain to whirl and hum to life, and he finds it difficult to contain. It bubbles up inside of him, arrests his mind with a keen awareness of all that he has now, and it just wants to spill from his mouth, all these words he wants to give her.

He runs his fingers gently across her cheek, tucks a loose curl behind her ear that has fallen across her face in the night. She's beautiful, a dream that he never thought would come true, so much more than he deserves. She's everything he's ever wanted and somehow more still. There were so many days he spent lost, bored, wasting time with women he only entertained to prove that he didn't have to be alone. But he was alone. He realizes that now. No woman ever filled his heart the way she has and does every single day.

He wants to make it forever. He's going to make it forever, if she allows him.

* * *

She wakes to the scent of vanilla and salt air, the sound of the surf crashing against the shore. The breeze tickles her bare skin, sends a delicious chill down her body as she pulls the sheet closer, wraps her fingers around the mug that sits waiting on the nightstand. She takes a long sip, moans as the warm liquid travels down her throat, revels in the rich sweetness of its flavor. He always makes it just right.

She sees him pause in the doorway, his own mug in hand, dressed in only a pair of pajama pants, and she watches as his eyes roam her body. When he looks at her this way she can almost feel his hands on her, his fingertips against her skin, the way his tongue traces her soft curves. The intimacy between them now makes her heart race, stirs a heat low in her stomach, and how can she even want him this badly again? It's only been a few hours since he touched her last.

He takes a deep breath, the hunger in his eyes replaced by something that looks like awe. She loves to watch the expressions play across his face, the way his brain switches gears so quickly sometimes. He may be the writer but she's every bit as attuned to the details as he is. And there's something about this connection they share, something she can't even explain that binds them together, a current of subtext that only they understand, a sort of cosmic rhythm syncing their movements.

"Good morning," he says, his voice low and oh so appealing. He smiles as he comes to sit by her on the bed.

"Thanks for the coffee," she hums against the mug, taking another sip before setting it back down on the nightstand.

"Couldn't have you waking up without your daily dose of caffeine, now could I?" he teases, running his hand across her bare shoulder, playing with the edge of the sheet.

Once again she's struck by just how wonderful he is to her. How well he's come to know her over time. The way he illuminates the dark, brings warmth to her life, fills her with such love her heart could burst open.

"I love you," she says, reaching to capture his hand, needing to touch him.

His eyes shine back at her, seem to reflect the way she's feeling. "I love you too, Kate. So much." He squeezes her hand briefly before letting go and he moves to crouch beside the nightstand, clears his throat nervously as he opens the drawer.

She watches curiously as he reaches in, entranced by his movements, by the fact that he's now shifted to kneel alongside the bed and her breath catches in her throat as she sees the tiny box he produces.

It's not a grand gesture, it's not a helicopter ride, it's not her name written across the sky. It's none of the things she can just see his imagination running wild with. It's six words, set to the soundtrack of the ocean behind them. And it's everything to her.

"Katherine Beckett, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she nods her head over and over again, watches with tears in her eyes as he slides the ring over her finger.

"Yes, yes, yes," she breathes against his mouth, as she pulls him back over her onto the bed, molds his body against hers.

* * *

As they come together in the morning light, he can't help but think the best is yet to come, still awaits them. He never in a million years imagined he'd be so lucky as to find someone like her. But he did. And somehow they've made it here. She's giving him forever. She's his.

* * *

_Thoughts?_


End file.
